Questions and Answers
by Saturdaychick
Summary: Erik seeks answers to questions.


**Questions and Answers**

It was wrong. Or was it? Yes…it was. He knew it was wrong. And yet… he couldn't stop thinking about her. When she called to him from her dressing room through the mirror, what was she thinking? She still called him her angel. She pined for him. Couldn't wait until rehearsals were over to reach out to him and beg for more instruction, more training for her voice, and yet, was there more for him to give? He knew that now she was perfection itself. Anything else he taught her was just window dressing.

What would happen when she realized that for herself? When she had the confidence to stand center stage and sing her heart out knowing she knew all there was to know about the art of giving voice to song. She would perhaps look back nostalgically for the days when a disembodied voice took a young girl under its angel's wing and taught her to use her voice as an instrument.

"Oh, Christine," he sighed, "what will I have to look forward to when you turn away from me and into the light? When you turn to Raoul… and who could blame you? He stands in the sun with the whole world at his feet… while I hide away in the shadows in a cellar. If I were you I would find Raoul bloody attractive, too." He could feel his mood changing from melancholy to anger, anger at himself, most of all.

To calm himself he made his way to Box 5 to study the rehearsal for _Faust_ and Carlotta's rendition of  
Marguerite. Christine was her understudy, a fact Carlotta resented since the night she claimed illness and Christine's performance brought the audience to its feet.

Suddenly the curtain behind him parted and Antoinette Giry entered and sat beside him. "We are not fans of Carlotta, Erik", she laughed, "so I know there must be some other reason for you to be here, when you could be doing something more interesting, say, perhaps, composing something that will get whatever it is out of your system and into your passionate music."

"You find my music passionate, Madame?" He glanced at her. She was giving him an idea, maybe without realizing it. But when did anything ever get past Antoinette?

"Ha, don't pretend with me, you know your work is brilliant, vibrant and alive, at least the music I've heard when eavesdropping in the corridors. It seems to contain your very heart and soul. Who has driven you to this, Erik, someone from your past?"

"What makes you think I compose for a woman, Antoinette? Maybe it's you who inspires me?" he asked, almost playfully.

"I could dream, Erik. No, I have sensed a distance in you, lately. A restlessness. Nadir and I commented on it over dinner the other night…"

"What?" Erik stood and towered over the calm and still seated Antoinette and seethed "I am a topic of your dinner gossip! And wait, you and Nadir are having dinners together? I knew it! I sensed there was something going on between you two. Don't you have anything better to discuss? Say the weather? Or perhaps some topic from the newspaper headlines. I should think I would be a boring subject for your dinner conversation."

"One thing you could never be accused of, Erik, is being boring. Calm down. Come, let's go down to my suite and I'll make you some tea, or perhaps a glass of port, if that suits your mood."

She stood, and taking his somewhat reluctant hand, led him through the passages that brought them to her apartment. Once ensconced inside, he felt a tension that might only be relieved by confessing his feelings for Christine to Antoinette. She might despise him for it, but she would listen and give him her sound advice. Could he bring himself to reveal so much to someone else, feelings that had lived inside him, that had burned within and kept him pacing the floors at night or, yes, composing with Christine's image and voice in his head. Was he so transparent?

Antoinette came and sat across from the settee where Erik was seated. She handed him a glass of port and sipped a bit from her own glass. She didn't push him. Just sat and smiled at him. "Take off that mask, Erik. You are with a friend. No need to hide from me. You know how fond I am of you."

He never knew what to say to her declaratives of friendship. He felt them, as well, but he wasn't used to being so…so open with anyone, well, Nadir, of course, but Antoinette was an attractive woman.  
Sighing, he reached up and removed the half mask. "There. I won't be offended if you are disturbed by my appearance. Many have been, over the years. A great many."

Antoinette's eyes widened at his statement but she did not run shrieking from the room. Instead, she put down her glass, rose from her seat and came over to sit beside him. She lifted a hand and gently placed it on his damaged cheek. "My dear, what you have lived through, and over what? An unusual appearance? My heart breaks for you, my friend. You outshine anyone I've ever met, you are a true genius, and I can also tell you, great beauty on the outside often hides great ugliness beneath."

He took in what she was saying, still in shock over her lack of horror at his face. Could he confess his feelings for Christine? He didn't want to lose this amazing woman who was truly his champion. It seemed right that she and his oldest friend, Nadir, should be together.

"Well, then, do you want to tell me what is bothering you?"  
"I don't want you to hate me for what I am about to tell you, Antoinette."  
"That could never happen, Erik. I value you too much."

He took a sip of his port, swallowed and said, quietly," I am madly in love with Christine."

"Ah! "she replied softly. "I see. Now, tell me what you are going to do about it?" 


End file.
